The Bargain or Death And The Warrior
by The You of Yesterday
Summary: Once upon a time, in a far-flung corner of the earth, was a country named Fire, in which the land was green & the people were brave & true. The White Fang bargains with Death; Death takes pity on the White Fang; the Little Scarecrow is the bargaining chip
1. In which the Scene is Set

**The Bargain**** or** **Death And The Warrior**

**Part One**

**In which the Scene is Set, and Death takes Pity on the Warrior**

Once upon a time, in a far-flung corner of the earth, there was a country named Fire, in which the land was green and the people were brave and true.  
In the Fire Country, there was a large and beautiful village set deeply among the green leaves of the forest. This Hidden Village in the Leaves was the home of the great Warriors who fought to protect the peaceful folk of the Fire Country.  
It is said that within each and every Warrior of the Leaves burned the Will of Fire, and rumour of this spread far and wide beyond the Fire Country's borders, keeping foes at bay.  
Now, there was one young Warrior within whom the Will of Fire burned more brightly than most. Even the Fire Shadow, who was high commander of the Leaf Warriors, was heard to say that this young man held great strength and passion within him.  
He had bright silver hair that shone in the moonlight, and he danced with Death often. When he fought beneath the forest canopy, Death became his welcome companion and trusted ally.

He was named the White Fang of the Leaf, and his spirit was fierce and his heart was true.  
As he grew older, this young Warrior made a name for himself, and became famed for his deeds throughout the Five Countries and beyond, and the Fire Shadow acknowledged him and begged him promise to take a wife. The Leaf was in great need of new young Warriors, and the best Warriors in the Leaf were encouraged to continue their bloodlines.

Now Death was pleased to hear this, as although he would miss dancing in the woods with the young warrior, the truth was that more than anything in the world or in the heavens, Death longed for a child of his own.

So the White Fang took a leave of absence from his Warrior duties, and set out on a quest to find a wife, taking with him only his trusty white sword and his best set of clothes.  
And Death stalked the Warrior, plotting and scheming as he journeyed.  
For 3 years the White Fang toiled in his quest, but not one woman did he meet whom he would take for a wife.  
"I have journeyed throughout the lands of the South, East, North and West, through all the Five Countries and beyond. There are many beautiful women, to be certain, but none have stolen my heart, and I have seen no woman strong enough to please the Fire Shadow."

The White Fang decided to give up his quest and set out on the long journey back home to the Fire Country and the Village in the Leaves.  
While he was still several days from home, the White Fang became weary and paused to rest beneath an old oak tree. Knowing that he was now within the borders of the Fire Country, the Warrior did not set a watch but fell asleep.  
During the night thieves took the Warrior by surprise. He had barely time to awaken when he saw them making off with his clothes and sword.  
Before the White Fang had time to give chase, a Shadow fell from the trees and defeated the thieves, taking back from them the White Fang's clothes and sword. The Shadow approached the wary Warrior, the sword and clothes held out in its arms.  
Did his tired eyes deceive him or did the White Fang see, instead of a Shadow, the most beautiful woman in all the Countries of the world?  
Her skin was as white as the first snowfall of winter and her hair was as black as midnight and as soft as the finest silk. Her dress was woven of cobwebs and butterfly wings and her sandals were of the purest spun gold.  
The young Warrior could not keep his eyes from this lovely woman. "She must be a princess!" he thought. "She is so strong and beautiful! With such a wife as she I could indeed produce offspring to please the Fire Shadow."  
With that, the handsome Warrior fell to his knees before the Woman and cried out "oh Woman! I have never seen such beauty and strength. Will thou marry me, oh angel of the trees, and return with me to the Village in the Leaves as my wife?"  
The White Fang hardly dared hope, and so he closed his eyes to await the Woman's reply.  
"Yes, young Warrior, I will do so. I will become your wife, and return with you to the Village in the Leaves. But I have one condition."  
The White Fang could not believe his luck. "Anything", he said, "name your price".  
At this the Woman laughed, and the sound was at once as beautiful and as sad as the Nightingale singing softly to the one she loves, and as joyous as the voices of the little children in the village school.  
"I shall bear you only one child, and when that child is born I shall leave you and take the child as well and you shall be alone."  
This seemed a high price, but the White Fang held great faith in his heart, and truly believed there was nothing he could not change, so he accepted, and vowed to himself that he would change the Woman's mind.  
So the White Fang and the forest Woman were married, and there was great joy and celebration in the Hidden Village in the Leaves, and even the Fire Shadow himself congratulated the Warrior and his wife and wished them well.  
Of course, the White Fang told no one of his promise, and so when the Woman became with child there was much rejoicing, for her strength and beauty had become the talk of the Village in the Leaves.  
When the time came for the child to be born the Woman turned to the White Fang and said:

"Husband, do you remember the promise you gave to me in the forest on the night that we first met?"

And the White Fang nodded sadly, for he did remember, but did not wish for it to come to pass.  
So he begged the Woman not to leave, but she declined saying that he must honour his promise. He threw himself at her beautiful feet and begged her not to take the child, and seeing his tears she relented, and the child was born.  
As the first cry of the child was heard in the Village in the Leaves, the form of the beautiful woman began to transform.  
It twisted and writhed until in front of the White Fang's horrified eyes it became the figure of Death, a grotesque form which all people recognised and all ran from in fear.  
All but the stout Warrior, who stood firm although his knees did tremble. The White Fang was not afraid for he had often danced with Death on the battlefield, and they had been like brothers.  
Death spoke to the White Fang in a voice none too kindly and he said "I will not take the child at this time. Instead, I will return for him in 8 years. You have persuaded me with your faithful and trusting heart. I will leave the child with you for a short time, for we have been friends, you and I, have we not, and you have gifted me with many precious lives throughout the years. Without you I would not have this child, so in my gratitude I leave him to you until I am ready to take him."

And with those words Death was gone.

The White Fang looked upon his child, and felt in his heart great happiness, although he was saddened at the loss of his lovely wife, and angry at his old friend Death for his deceit.

As the child grew, his beauty, intelligence and strength became well-known within the Village in the Leaves. The boy had an ethereal quality to him, although only the White Fang knew the cause, and he moved with a grace foreign to other children.

As the White Fang walked with his son the women of the Village would often speak to him and would remark upon the child's extraordinary beauty.

And the White Fang himself could not help but simply gaze upon his son on occasion for long hours as he played or slept, marvelling in the simple perfection of the child.

The little boy, who was known as the Scarecrow, was indeed fair to behold, and he appeared fairer still because he was unaware of his own beauty, and played and ran through the forest with a joy and abandon that was shared only by the wild Creatures of the forest, who often played alongside the Little Scarecrow.

He had silvery hair of the softest Spiders silk, and eyes of the clearest black obsidian, mined from the very core of the earth. His skin was like that which Death had given himself in the guise of the Forest Woman, smooth and white like driven snow, and his little lips were were like the petals of the reddest Camelia.

It broke the White Fang's heart to know that Death would all too soon be coming to claim the boy for his own.

For several years the White Fang and the Little Scarecrow lived happily together, and the Scarecrow began to train as a Warrior of the Leaf like his father.

A day came when the peace of the Fire Country was shattered, and War broke out with the neighbouring Country of Rock. The people of Rock were strong and were known for their Hearts of Stone, and they fought dearly for their part.

The Little Scarecrow was sent to fight with the Warriors of the Leaf, so strong was he at such a tender age, and his father the White Fang also fought and performed great acts of courage.

The War raged on for several summers, and it seemed the Leaf would prevail, until one fateful day the White Fang returned in disgrace. He was shunned by the Fire Shadow and all the people of the Village Hidden in the Leaves for what he had done.

The White Fang had saved the lives of his men, and had returned with them safely to their wives and children, but at the expense of the mission he had set out to complete.

The War began to go badly from this point onward and the White Fang sank into a deep depression, from which nothing would rouse him, not even the Little Scarecrow.

And so it came to pass that one month before the Scarecrow's eighth birthday the White Fang was still wracked with despair over what he had done.

And Death came to the White Fang and reminded him of his promise.

"White Fang" he said, "in one month I shall come to you again, and I will take the Little Scarecrow. He will come with me and I will show him the Earth and the Heavens and I will teach him my ways, and he shall learn to be my son."

And the White Fang made no reply, he was too deeply consumed by his depression. But he began to cry, and moaned "in but one short month my precious Little Scarecrow will be gone from me. Oh how will I live alone? My Scarecrow is my only light. If he is taken from me I will surely not survive. Oh, if only Death would take me instead, and leave my good Little Scarecrow to continue his life. I do not wish to go on, and I cannot let Death twist my beautiful Scarecrow to his ways."

And Death, upon hearing this, once again took pity on the poor, honest Warrior. He came to him and he promised that in one month he would return and would take the White Fang and spare the Scarecrow, and the White Fang sank to his knees and kissed the black sandals of Death through his tears.

Of course, there were conditions attached to Death's kind offer to his old playmate, for who was Death to give something for free? Death outlined these conditions to the White Fang ticking each off on his long white fingers as he spoke.

"First of all, I shall not take your life, White Fang, although you beg it of me, for it is not yet your time. You shall take your own life, and plant the seed of despair within the heart of your precious Little Scarecrow. Second of all, I shall not touch the boy. Third of all, I shall take, one by one, each and every person that the Little Scarecrow holds dear."

At this the White Fang gasped and cried out.

"No! You cannot do that! I will not allow it!"

But Death just shook his head.

"You cannot stop me. I intend to make the child mine. He has remained too long with you, White Fang. He is now mortal, but if he sinks into despair and joins me of his own free will, he will transcend his mortality and join me in my Domain."

So this is your goal, Brother Death, my old companion?" said the White Fang. "In that case I have one more request if you will grant it."

Death gestured to the White Fang to state his request.

"I will take my own life, but the Scarecrow must be at my side to witness my passing."

At this Death let out a tremendous bellowing laugh.

"That is perfect!" he cried in his voice like honey. "He will fall faster if I let you do this. You are a fool, White Fang, so I will grant your request!"

But the White Fang smiled to himself. "Ah, but perhaps I know my Little Scarecrow better than you do, Brother Death. We will see we will see."

And it came to pass that the White Fang took his own life, and the Little Scarecrow witnessed it and the light died in his obsidian eyes, and Death watched from the shadows and chuckled with glee. The Little Scarecrow would soon be at his side.

**_End of Part One_**


	2. In which the White Fang Watches

**The Bargain or Death And The Warrior**

_**And it came to pass that the White Fang took his own life, and the Little Scarecrow witnessed it and the light died in his obsidian eyes, and Death watched from the shadows and chuckled with glee. The Little Scarecrow would soon be at his side.**_

**Part Two**  
**In which the Little Scarecrow discovers that the World is a Cruel Place Indeed, and the White Fang watches from the Palace of Death**

So the White Fang fought no more, and he spent his days in a seat of gilded ebony beside Death's empty throne, looking sadly on as that creature, his very own Brother and Wife stalked the Little Scarecrow, his beloved Son.

And each night Death would return to his gilded palace in the In-Between World and would smile his beautiful smile at the White Fang as he took up his seat upon his golden throne. And serving girls with tails like snakes of glittering silver did tend to their master's every want and desire. And such a smile was so discordant within that World of perpetual semi-darkness that to see it made the Warrior sick to his stomach.

And Death smiled that too-bright smile to taunt the Warrior, for he knew that it was only a matter of Time before the Seed of Vengeance that had been planted in the Little Scarecrow's pure and fertile heart would take root and sprout. So great was Death's certainty upon this matter that he would gloat as he sat upon his golden throne, and the serving girls with their tails like silver snakes placed in his mouth the finest foods from the farthest corners of the Earth which Death bade the White Fang himself prepare in time for his return each evening. The White Fang looked on in disgust, for he knew the food on the table of Death was taken from the hand of the starving child, and from the field of the honest farmer, and this was the work of Death's loyal servants Pestilence and Famine, who for their efforts received robes of the finest silks.

But Death knew that it was only a matter of Time before that vengeful Seed began to grow, and he grew more certain with each day that passed he was forever one day closer to claiming the Little Scarecrow as his own, and one day closer to bringing his only Son to the palace in the In-Between World to stand by his side for all Eternity.

And Death could afford to wait, and Time, being a close relative of his, could be trusted to take his part, and deliver him the one thing that could ease his loneliness. Now Time had gifted Death with many souls over the long years, and when she had the mind could be almost as cruel and vindictive as her cousin Death himself and they had often played together as children. So Death, being rather lazy, was content to trust to his cousin Time to help him make the Little Scarecrow his own.

So it was for this reason that Death smiled his knowing smile as the White Fang toiled to prepare an ill-gotten supper, and Famine and Pestilence stood by in their finery to curry favour with their Master. And although the White Fang scowled at Death and resented that too-bright smile, he was in truth pleased that Death put his faith in the Lady Time, for Time's one weakness was her patience, and this would be the undoing of Death's great plan for the White Fang knew his son the Little Scarecrow and knew his heart better than Death ever could

The White Fang knew that, for a Dark Seed to take root, alike to any seed in the Living World, it was necessary to provide it with both food and water. Now water came in the form of the Little Scarecrow's tears, which the boy had let flow at his father's passing, but food for such a seed could be provided only when the heart was darkened with Despair. Death himself had witnessed the Little Scarecrow's tears and had presumed that Despair would follow, the White Fang knew better.  
The Little Scarecrow's heart was not darkened or even clouded by Despair. Indeed, in the midst of sadness it grew pure and white with Hope's bright lustre, and in the darkest depths of the deep deep ocean of the Little Scarecrow's pain and fear it gleamed bright as the brightest pearl, hidden from view but not tarnished or cracked with Despair. No Seed of Vengeance could ever find purchase in such a heart, for there was not one crack in its pearly shell through which that Dark Seed could extend its black and twisted roots, and not one atom or speck of the surface of that heart was tarnished, for Hope kept it brightly polished for as long as she remained therein

The White Fang knew that his son would face sorrow and pain, but Death, in allowing the Little Scarecrow to watch the Warrior take his life, and to hear his final words spoken in the Living World, had allowed the Father to strengthen the heart and soul of the beloved child against any mode of attack which Death might have been minded to embark upon. Knowing, as he did by now, the preferred hunting methods of Death his former trusted brother-in-arms, the White Fang did not find it difficult to outwit Death and implant his own seed of Hope in his son's heart and mind.  
And as long as the White Fang had strength still in his body, his soul or his mind, the Little Scarecrow would only join Death in his hollow castle once his life had been lived to the fullest in the World of the Living.  
So, the White Fang had conspired to implant the knowledge and desire for honour in the Little Scarecrow's brilliant mind. It was from this knowledge that Hope had sprung, and it was Hope that would keep the Little Scarecrow's heart out of the clutches of Death.

But still it was with great sorrow that the White Fang watched his Little Scarecrow mourn his passing, and go about his ways in the Village Hidden in the Leaves with grief brimming in his eyes of infinite darkness.  
But although the Little Scarecrow mourned his Father's death and was filled with sorrow and grief, such was his nature that he found joy in the beauty of the World, and this brought him great solace. For when he walked through the Village in the Leaves and sorrow clutched at his heart, just to see the lovely Butterfly or hear the song of the gentle Blackbird drove the sorrow from his mind and he would smile, and this brought great happiness to the White Fang as he watched on from afar, as his Son was even stronger than he had realised.

And the smile of the Little Scarecrow was the most dazzling smile ever seen upon the fair Earth, for it had all the beauty of Death's mocking smile, but was sincere and did not mock but held within it a pure joy which could not be contained.

It was a smile so bright and so fair that the Blackbird would pause in her song to observe the lovely child as he passed beneath her favourite branch, and would resume her music with a greater happiness than before. If the Little Scarecrow chanced to walk through the meadow, the Grass would whisper to the flowers of the beauty of his smile, and the Daisy, the Primrose and the Buttercup, being the kindest of all the flowers of the meadow, would raise their heads and uncover their pretty faces most unseasonably just to gaze upon the child who's beauty was rumoured to surpass their own.

And as the boy passed through the orchard, the Cherry and the Apple blossoms would become overtaken with joy to see his lovely smile, and they wept tears of pure joy. And the teardrops dried on the branches of the trees as they fell and became ripe fruits, which the trees offered out to the Little Scarecrow as he passed bending their branches low so that he could reach the choicest fruits.  
And so it would seem that the Little Scarecrow was loved wherever he went, and all were overjoyed to see him smile with the joy that he found in Nature.

But it is often the case that Nature and Humans do not agree, and although it is Nature who is the more rational of the two, it is sadly the Humans who have the greatest influence over their own.  
And such was the case with the Citizens of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, for they could not stand to see the Little Scarecrow smile, as they did not understand his heart and thought only of themselves. Now, it would not be fair to think too harshly of the Citizens for their actions, for they had of course suffered through the Great War and many losses, and all held grief in their hearts for their own loved ones who were lost, and so could be regarded as justified in their actions.

For when the Citizens saw the Little Scarecrow walking in the streets of the Village, and he smiled at the many beautiful things he saw, they did not smile back at the kind-hearted child, but would scowl and utter cruel words which broke the White Fang's heart to hear them. And as they spoke these words the Little Scarecrow's bright smile would falter, and the sadness in his dark eyes became deeper.

"There he is, the Son of the Disgraced white Fang", the old women would say, and would point their gnarly fingers at the little boy as he passed by their doorways and gardens, and they would tut, "tsk tsk", and shake their heads.  
"How can he smile so brightly?" the shopkeepers asked each other in whispers, as they carefully stowed the Little Scarecrow's coins into their purses, "Does he care nothing for the disgrace his father has brought upon our village?"  
Others would reply "Indeed he cares not, because he is that man's son", and "He will only grow up to disgrace Village, just like his father", or "You can see by his happy smile that he does not care for the trouble he has caused to us all".  
And yet others would stand silently and simply look at the Little Scarecrow with sad eyes telling of those they had lost, and of the blame they placed on the son of the White Fang for all the woes of the Village.

And when the Little Scarecrow heard these things he did not see the cruelty in their words or in their faces, but saw only that his smile was making the Villagers that he so cared for sad, and he could not bear to see this. So the kind child vowed that he would show his bright smile no more, and would make amends for the actions of his Father.  
But try as he might the Little Scarecrow could not hide his smile, for even in the very midst of his sorrow the very sight of the Yellow Sun in the sky brought forth a smile unbidden to his face from the very depths of his soul.

Now being an intelligent child, the Little Scarecrow wished to avoid trouble wherever he could, and hated to see the Villagers whom he so loved, whom he fought for daily and risked his life in battle to protect, made sad because of his own smile.

So, one night alone in the house he had once shared with his Father, the Little Scarecrow went to the wardrobe where the White Fang's cloths were kept, and he took with him his trusty sword, for he had devised a plan to keep the Villagers from the pain they felt in seeing his smile.

Upon seeing the clothes, the boy smiled once more at the many happy memories he kept of his Father, and he took the great Warrior's black shirt of hair and nettles and he sliced from its dark expanse a small strip, which he tied around his little face to hide his smile from the Villagers. And the Little Scarecrow had chosen his Father's shirt of hair and nettles from which to fashion his mask for a reason. For this shirt his Father had worn to remind himself, through the constant itch itch itch of the course fabric against his skin, that he lived in service as a humble Warrior of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, and as such could not know comfort until his work was done and the Village was safe from harm. And the Little Scarecrow wore that cloth now for that same reason, and also to never forget his Father and the great sacrifices he had made, and the hardship he had endured.

The White Fang looked on in pain from his lofty seat above the World, and when he saw the boy's actions he wept that he would see his Little Scarecrow's lovely smile no more, but he felt pride swell in his heart as he saw the boy step out into the World to do his duty as a Warrior of the Leaf, and smiled grimly at his small Son's determination to restore honour to the House of the White Fang.

And all the many creatures of the Forest wept too, for never again from that day forth was the Little Scarecrow seen without that mask of black cloth, wrought from the fabric of the White Fang's shirt of penance, hiding his irrepressible smile from the eyes of the world.

**_End of Part 2_**


	3. In which a Great Warrior Returns

**The ****Bargain ****or ****Death ****And ****The ****Warrior**

_**And all the many creatures of the Forest wept too, for never again from that day forth was the Little Scarecrow seen without that mask of black cloth, wrought from the fabric of the White Fang's shirt of penance, hiding his irrepressible smile from the eyes of the world.**_

**Part 3**

**In which a Great Warrior Returns to the Leaf, and the Little Scarecrow finds a New Meaning in Life**

From that day onwards the Little Scarecrow was always alone, whether he ran in the forest or trained long and hard on the waters of the lake or the sheer cliffs of the mountain, for aside from the gentle creatures of the forest no one dared approach the brave child, and all shunned his company, for the Son of the Disgraced White Fang of the Leaf had become a figure of hate and fun for the good people of the Village.

One bright day in early Autumn, when the trees were still in full leaf and the rivers flowed over with fish, and the greedy Gull swooped and the majestic Heron shook his head and waited patiently, a young Warrior returned to the Village Hidden in the Leaves after a long absence.

The Will of Fire burned strongly within this young man's heart, and his speed was unmatched in all of the Five Countries. Despite his youth, this Warrior had already earned for himself a title by which he was known to Friend and Enemy alike, and this name was the Yellow Flash, for his hair was bright yellow like the daffodils that waved merrily in the fields, and he was said to move faster even than the Wind when he had the mind.

And this young Warrior the Yellow Flash was kind at heart, and the very first thing that he did that bright day, upon his return from a long and difficult quest, was to walk in the Forest, for it was there that the Yellow Flash felt the most at peace. As he walked the young Warrior hummed softly and smiled at the gentle creatures of the Forest, greeting each with a nod or a kind word, and he revelled in the peace and quiet that he found, although it puzzled him to find the Forest so quiet.

"Why is it, I wonder, that the Villagers do not venture into the Forest on such a day as today, for I have never seen it more beautiful? It saddens me that others from the Village that I so love do not enjoy the Forest as I do, for I have never felt it more alive or more peaceful. I wonder if there is some Festival in the Village of which I am not aware?"

The Young Warrior paused to admire an especially large and fine Camellia tree, heavy with lovely red blooms, and his smile fell away as he stood in thought. He was sure he remembered that the Forest was well-loved by the Villagers, and before his long absence was often filled with the sounds of children laughing as they played. The Yellow Flash loved children, and nothing brought him greater joy than to see them play together happily amongst the great trees of the Forest, which he loved almost as dearly as he did love the children, and so he missed them greatly.

The Yellow Flash resumed his walking, and continued for some minutes to revel in the quiet sounds of the Forest creatures going about their simple lives.

As he walked, the Warrior came upon a pleasant glade, and this glade was lit by the sun which pierced the dense canopy of the trees. As he neared the edge of the clearing he was sure he could hear a voice singing and he paused to listen, the smile growing on his face once again as he looked around to find the singer.

But although he heard a voice, the Yellow Flash could neither see nor sense another person in the leafy glade, and the animals of the forest seemed drawn to the clearing and they stood or lay as though enthralled by the voice.

So the curious Warrior edged from his hiding place into the grassy glade, for he too felt drawn to the voice that was so beautiful that it was at once as sad and joyous to hear, and the great young Warrior the Yellow Flash could not stop his mouth from smiling widely or his eyes from crying all at the same time for the sound affected him so. And the song was a bittersweet melody with words in a beautiful language the Warrior did not understand, but which called to him all the same, and he felt that had he understood the words the call of the song would have been so strong he would have stood stupidly like the animals, enchanted as though by some spell.

A longing to be nearer to the singer, and to understand the song overcame the Yellow Flash, and he crept further out into the glade. It was rare indeed that he was unable to sense the presence of others around him, for he was a Warrior of the utmost skill who was said by many to be an even greater Warrior that the White Fang himself before he had fallen into disgrace.

So he parted a mass of ferns which obscured his view and peering through he saw a most unexpected sight.

Perched on the slender bough of a silver birch high above his head sat a small child, swinging his little legs as he sang. Now the Yellow Flash could never say what singer he had expected to find there, but he had not thought that he would find there a small boy dressed as a Warrior of the Leaf.

But the child was there, and of course it was the Little Scarecrow, as beautiful and pure as he had ever been. And around him gathered upon the tree bow were many creatures, who although normally so timid appeared bold around the child.

The wise old Hawk Owl sat with his head turned toward the boy, and beside her sat the Rabbit in complete disregard for his natural predator, both seemingly in a state of thrall. On the boy's head sat the plain Nightingale, as though she wished to learn from the child how to make her own song sweeter, while the wily Fox lazed nearby on the ground, feigning disinterest but with one ear cocked to better catch the song, and many other birds and animals also sat around the peaceful glade.

This child who could offset the very Balance of Nature herself was truly a sight for the Yellow Flash to behold, and in his excitement the great Warrior of the Leaf forgot his concealment and his feet led him toward the tree in which the Little Scarecrow sat.

The moment the Yellow Flash dropped his control over his own presence the singing stopped, ad the boy, who had been gazing at the sky while he sang, moved so quickly that the Yellow Flash could barely follow his movement, and was now staring down the Warrior with his sword in his hand.

The boy was small, and pale and delicate as carved ivory, the Yellow Flash observed, when compared to the Villagers who were for the most part swarthy in complexion and broader in their build, they being a Warrior race. His hair like spun silver fell over his forehead and framed his eyes of the deepest coal black, which narrowed as the boy tensed and grasped his small sword.

The animals had silently fled, and the Little Scarecrow dropped noiselessly to the ground before the Yellow Flash, and he took up a wary stance, his face unreadable behind a mask of black.

The smile was still on the kindly face of the young Warrior as he held up his hands to signal that he meant no harm, and he approached the boy carefully.

"I mean you no harm, young Warrior of the Leaf" he said, smiling warmly, for he thought the boy was playing at being a Warrior as children are want to do.

"I was only wondering why the Forest is so quiet on this lovely day when I came upon this glade and heard your song, and I could not help but listen", and the Warrior's bright blue eyes sparkled as he smiled.

And the Little Scarecrow cocked his head as if thinking and then sheathed his sword.

"The Forest is quiet because I am here" he replied bluntly. "I am not well-liked in the Village Hidden in the Leaves. But who might you be that you have not heard of my shame?"

"I am a Warrior of the Leaf, and I am known as the Yellow Flash, and I have only returned today from a long quest which kept me outside of the Village for several years in far-off lands beyond the Five Countries. I know not of you, child, nor do I know of any shame you carry. Tell me your tale and I will be a fair judge, and will not cast you aside without good reason".

And the Yellow Flash waited, for what crime could such a child have committed to earn the wrath of the whole Village?

And looking up to meet the eyes of the Warrior, the Little Scarecrow saw kindness writ there, and also concern, and joy such as he had never seen before, and he trusted this Warrior with his sad tale.

So the Scarecrow told his tale, and the Yellow Flash listened carefully to everything the child spoke, and he thought the case was very obviously against the Villagers in this instance. The son should not be held to task for the deeds of his father, and it seemed to the kind and reasonable Yellow Flash that the poor child had done nothing more terrible than find the strength to smile in the midst of his sadness, and to have for a father a man so great that his only mistake became his last.

And above all the Yellow Flash saw great pain in the inky-black eyes of the sweet Little Scarecrow, and knew that the child needed nothing more or less than love to become happy again.

So the Yellow Flash stretched out his hand to the Little Scarecrow, and he said to him;

"Little Scarecrow, I have listened to your tale, and I judge that the White Fang was a great Warrior of the Leaf, who's name shall be forever honoured in my heart, and you are a brave child who shall soon become a great Warrior to surpass all others before you. Do not let the darkness take you. Let me see your smile".

And when he heard this the Little Scarecrow could not help but smile brightly, and his dark eyes crinkled in emotion, and he did not think or hesitate a moment, but pulled down the harsh cloth to reveal his sweet smile to the Yellow Flash.

And the White Fang of course saw all of this from his large and comfortable seat in the In-Between World, and he smiled his own bright smile in relief that his dear Little Scarecrow would no longer be alone. And as he watched the Yellow Flash take the Little Scarecrow into his strong arms his smile grew and a weight lifted from his heart.

But Death looked on and he chuckled to himself that the White Fang would not hear him, for the father of the Scarecrow had forgotten one part of the bargain made with Death that was perhaps the most cruel thing of all. Death had vowed that he would take, one by one, all those the Little Scarecrow loved cared for, and before the Yellow Flash had taken pity on the child he had not become attached in love to another human being for all had shunned him, but now there was one whom Death cold set his sights upon.

And as he chuckled, Death thought to himself that he would allow the love between the Yellow flash and the Little Scarecrow to grow and become truly strong, for only then would the passing of the Yellow Flash have a true impact upon the heart of the Scarecrow. And Death had Time on his side, so he could afford to wait and watch as the game he had set in motion began to play out to his liking, and he came a step closer to reaching his prize.

**_End of Part 3._**


End file.
